


Late Night Thoughts

by SecretEspionage



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-26
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretEspionage/pseuds/SecretEspionage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bed sharing and cuddling can be intimate too.  The silent thoughts of Bucky and you at night when you both think the other is asleep. Post-Winter Soldier. Bucky/Reader.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Her Side

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! This is my first ever fanfiction, so I would very much appreciate some feedback and constructive criticism. Thank you in advance to everyone who reads this!

Three hours crawled by slowly as you stared at his back with drooping eyelids. Bucky laid motionless, even his breathing had gone undetected by you. Whether he learned this as the soldier or the assassin he was forced to be, it still carried on into his old age. It was like you were staring at a wall waiting for it to change, to move, to breathe. Something, anything.

The small patch of blankets you laid on was cold, it always was. Even when he needed you the most, he still pushed you away. He wanted you close enough to him but at an arm’s length away, leaving you to your own devices as you froze under his shadow. Even on your side of the imaginary wall you both built up to split the bed between you, you could feel some of heat radiating off Bucky’s body, beckoning you. You closed your eyes momentarily, inhaling deeply, taking in his scent. Metal and musk, but also something sweet you couldn’t put your finger on. You locked it away in memory and then let it all out with a sigh. When your eyes fluttered back open his form remained unchanged.

You hoped dearly that Bucky was sleeping. Nightmares were a common occurrence with him, which was understandable due to his life experience. Still, you wished for peace in his life, even for a breath, even for a moment. Your heart ached for him to know comfort within these walls he called home. You wanted him to know he was safe. At your side, he was completely under your protection. You would fight tooth and nail for him to let down his guard and relax, even for just a bit.

Your eyes trailed down his muscular back, tanned and toned. Your gaze followed the curve of his spine and took in each bulge of muscle. You let your trail side track at the nasty scar that grew out from his prosthetic arm. Bucky hated that arm, it was no secret to anyone. It was a constant reminder of what he did, of what he became, of who he killed. You disagreed, it was a reminder. It was a reminder of what he survived and that he was capable of getting better. And most importantly, it was a part of him, so you loved it the same way you loved every piece of him.

You bit your lip, telling yourself this was a bad idea as you slowly reached out towards the former assassin. You tried to make as little noise as possible as the covers shifted over your moving hand. You froze once your fingertips touched the hardened skin on his back. It was rough, like leather, and wrinkled from damage. You didn’t mind, you never did, every part of him was perfect to you. You carefully flattened your completely against his shoulder, feeling both the cool metal and the warm skin that made up his arm. Even then, he did not stir. Pushing your luck, you began to stroke his scar gently with your thumb, rubbing back and forth slowly. Once again, you bit your lip, thinking of another bad idea, and quickly pushed yourself onto his side of the bed. You slid your arm under his prosthetic, the weight only bothering you slightly, and settled your hand over his heart. You pressed flush against his back, squeezing him to you like you were trying to protect him from the world that took everything from him.

You stilled, holding your breath, waiting to see if he’d respond to you, if he’d push you off, but nothing changed. You exhaled slowly and nuzzled his back, letting his warmth take over. His heat was lulling you to sleep and you began to lazily trace circles over his heart with your thumb. In your daze, you moved your head up and trailed a few kisses on the scar that covered most of his shoulder and laid your head back down.

“I love you, Buck” you mumbled against his back, your hand finally stilling over his heart. For a few moments, everything was still, everything was quiet. Your breathing evened out as sleep completely took you in its arms. Only then did he move.

He placed his metal hand, the one he hated, over yours that hung loosely over his heart and intertwined both of your fingers. Gently, he raised your hand up to his lips and brushed your index finger against them. Maybe later he could give you an actual kiss and maybe later he would actually deserve you but for now that was all he could manage. He moved your hand back where it belonged, resting on the center of his chest, and allowed himself to drift off for the rest of the night.


	2. His Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is all about Bucky's thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everyone! Thank you so much for all the positive feedback! I try to upload weekly and I felt like I had to after the Civil War trailer came out. Thank you to everyone who took time out of their lives to read this, you are all wonderful!

Bucky admitted he liked sleeping beside you. Not out loud but to himself, in his mind. That’s where everything stayed, locked away. Loud, so loud. It hurt, remembering caused physical pain, in his head, in his heart, in his lungs, in his arm. There was too much in his head, like trying to find his way home through thick fog that covered over everything. He’d spend hours walking through it, trying to sort out memories from nightmares to no avail.

And then you’d touch him, gently, like it was the only way you knew how. Your fingertips brushed against his jaw, trailing up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind his ear. You’d rub his cheek, once, twice, three times if he was lucky before flattening your hand out on the side of his face. A simple touch was all it took to clear out the fog in his mind and focus all of his attention onto you. He was amazed at how fast you made him completely yours, or maybe he had always belonged to you. He couldn’t remember and right now, he didn’t care. 

Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, relaxing at the comfort it gave him. You rubbed his cheek gently with your thumb once more and he turned into your hand, letting his lips brush against your palm as he covered your hand with his own. 

“Getting tired, big guy?” You asked, he could hear the smile in your voice. He made a low sound in the back of his throat for an answer and you chuckled. 

“Me too,” you replied, pulling your hand away. Immediately, he missed the contact and opened his eyes to finally look at you. It was like staring at the sun, you were too bright, too warm, but he’d rather go blind than look away.

“Come on,” you said, nudging his knee with your own. Immediately, he stood, ever the soldier. Ready to take orders, ready to serve, ready to die. All for you, always for you, gladly for you. Bucky stayed still, watching you walk away until you turned back to him and motioned for him to follow. He paced after you, his footsteps much heavier than your own echoing in the empty hallway. You waited for him to catch up to your side and slipped your hand into his flesh one. Before, he would have yanked his arm away from the contact, but he has grown accustomed to your touch, to your love.

You walked side by side in a calm silence, arriving to his bedroom door shortly. When you kept walking, he froze in place and you were yanked back by your hand when he didn’t move forwards with you. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, squeezing Bucky’s hand tighter in concern. He simply nudged his head off to the side towards his door. “Ah, I know it’s your room, it’s just…” you trailed off, turning your gaze to the floor. “I thought we could sleep in my room?” You shyly glanced up after finishing your question. He could admit it was cute and seventy years ago he could have told you that with a charming smile that would have had you wrapped around his finger. But that was a different lifetime, a different man. He doesn’t know if he could even fake a smile anymore. The lingering hope in your eyes faded as he shook his head. 

Everything was a battle to him, Hydra made sure to wire him this way. Your room was your turf, you had the upper hand. At least in his own bedroom he had the advantage. From what, he himself was not sure, but the threat of danger always lingered in the back of his mind. Hydra’s taint couldn’t even spare you.

You nodded at him once, understanding that it would have been an argument you’d lose. The man was stubborn, even if he didn’t say a word. Bucky returned your nod and turned to open his bedroom up to you. You followed him in, closing the door behind you, your hand still resting comfortably in his. He let go as soon as the door closed and moved across the room to grab one of his gray hoodies for you, your favorite one, and a change of clothes for him. He handed your makeshift pajamas over and you took it, thanking him quietly but warmly. Without pause, he turned and went to his bathroom, giving you both the privacy to change in peace. He changed quickly, he was trained to waste no time. Anything could be done efficiently, no matter how minuscule the task. But he wasn’t with Hydra anymore, he had time to himself for once.

Bucky looked at the man staring back at him in the mirror. He leaned heavy over the counter, bracing with both hands as he took in his own features. His blue eyes appeared grey, his jumbled memories sucking the color straight out of them. Dark circles lingered under his eyes, making them look sunken back into his skull. Over the past seventy years, he didn’t even have the freedom to choose when he was going to sleep. This past year was the first time he has the ability to sleep on his own free will, and the memories, the nightmares of Hydra prevented him from doing so. The only way he could sleep for more than four hours at a time was when he was wrapped up in your arms. He was grateful for you even if he could never bring himself to say it.

You had tied his brown locks back out of his face, his hair resting in a low ponytail at the base of his neck. Bucky reached behind his head and pulled the band off, letting his wavy hair fall free and frame his face. In old pictures of himself, his hair was short and combed neatly. You had offered to cut his hair and style it the same way, but he refused. He couldn’t be that man anymore.

Bucky turned his head from side to side, looking at the scruff growing on his cheeks. He ran his human fingers over the growth, it was getting long. He knew you’d offer to shave him within a few days and he would let you if just to feel your hands on his face once more.

It amazed him how even the details of his face had brought his thoughts back to you. But maybe that’s what it meant to completely belong to someone else, to be made whole again. He was yours, that’s the one thing he was utterly sure about. You were his heart and his soul, and you were waiting for him.

When Bucky exited the bathroom, you were already curled up under the covers staring at his pillow with tired eyes. He made it to his bed in three strides and crawled in next to you without a word. You received him sleepily but gladly and cuddled up to his chest. You rubbed his side a few times and kissed his chin, wishing him a wonderful night. He curled around you, squeezing you tight to him. He was your own personal armor and nothing in this world would touch you without going through him. He rested his mouth on the top of your head and relaxed. Slowly, he inhaled your scent, holding it in for a moment and letting it out with a content sigh. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head once he knew you were asleep and finally confessed, barely above a whisper.

“I am yours.”


End file.
